Rebirth
by mangachick1
Summary: Stiles has to look after a de-aged Derek. *Fluff Happens*


Stiles had, for once, prior warning to the trouble due to arrive. It didn't make it easier to handle though, especially with the very mini-tiny version of grumpiness parked on his couch. Except he wasn't so grumpy, his entire face soft and untouched by the evil Stiles would have to perpetuate at the question mini-grumpy was definitely, definitely about to ask.

His shoulders, those shoulders that hadn't developed yet into the markers of divine intervention, bracketed his ears, and Stiles cringed. "I know they're…" Derek's bit at the break of his quiet voice. He averted his gaze, biting the side of his lips to hold back that damned glaze in his bright eyes.

Derek shouldn't have to deal with this. Not again, not when they didn't understand what had happened and where their Derek was. But Stiles couldn't just leave, even though that was definitely the logical thing to do since they literally had no idea what had happened, not with the faint tremble in Derek's shoulders.

Stiles took a careful step forward, hesitating at the flinch Derek began to keep his emotions under bay before setting his fingers over those shoulders that held too much. He squeezed the coiled muscles and Derek's jaw worked but overall his stomach heaved stutteringly, his human nails biting into his own chest as if to hold it together.

He couldn't just leave it like that. Stiles parked at his side, curling his arms slowly over Derek's shoulders and pressed firmly against his side. "Just breathe with me, in and out," Derek's chest stuttered. Stiles could feel Derek's heartbeat racing but Stiles just rubbed Derek's shoulder, lowering them against the couch's back to relax them further.

"You know," Stiles didn't know many things. But he did know how to talk, "when my Mum died, I- we'd been expecting it. She'd been sick for a while, barely with us anymore, you know, we'd get a few minutes sometimes – with the real her, that is." Stiles bowed his head at the back of Derek's warm neck and just breathed, "She had this disease which made her hallucinate, hear things and most of the time she didn't believe it was really us, but – then sometimes she'd be her, my Mum again.

"It's not something I – I'm not saying that's anything like what's going on with you, but I do understand, a little at least what you're feeling right. The, sort of," Stiles lips twitched but he didn't know why, "Here for the moment, gone the next, without really knowing what triggered it."

Derek settled further into his chest, sniffling into his dirty old shirt, better fitted for rags than outer wear. He was so tiny, so unprepared to deal with this and Stiles fingers clenched protectively over his shoulder. There was one thing he had to ask. It had the potential to help, "How did you know, they're not-"

Stiles shut him up right there when Derek tensed; his claws somehow had made it to the small of Stiles' spine while the other still clutched his chest. His throat croaked and he cleared it, squirming a little in discomfort but unwilling to move. "I don't feel them," he admitted into Stiles' shirt.

Stiles heart thumped, "You can do that? Werewolves can do that, feel their Pack's?" He waved his free hand, "Why does Scottie never tell me these things? Oh my god, that would have worked so much better than Danny having to hack your phone to find you or Erica and Boyd's phones when they scamper off to their-"

"You talk a lot," Derek mumbled as if just making the revelation.

Stiles felt a little proud at that. That hadn't been a threat to maim him at all, "Yep," he popped. "Even when I'm sleeping, all chatter – hang on, why didn't Scottie just find you? We had to track you from Mexico with so much help from people and now we owe them favors," Stiles groaned.

Stiles didn't really see but Derek frowned, lifting his head a bit to rest it on Stiles' shoulder. "Scott's the Alpha right?" Stiles nodded quickly, worried that Derek didn't know that. Derek shook his head, "He's not Pack," he grumbled, like something in him was sore about that.

Maybe in this body, Derek wasn't. "Yeah, well your mine, at least if you want, that is." Derek didn't say anything but Stiles felt his jaw muscle twang, "Or I could just be a cuddle-buddy, I'm all for it. Honestly for the crap that happens, we don't get enough cuddle time in."

"Cuddle buddy," it sounded like a question but it also sounded like an affirmation.

Stiles grinned, because this was amazing and nobody would believe him. "Awesome," Derek exhaled right into his throat and Stiles stilled. "You mind if I turn the TV on to cuddle time, we've been in Mexico rescuing your ass with so little time for Wi-Fi-"he left it open.

Derek snorted into his shirt and waved at the television, "My hero." An approve as any, Stiles grabbed the remote and flicked it open to his regular channel, and settled in to watch the new Star Wars again while Derek settled further into his side and Stiles took the time to marvel how freaking weird that was and how he totally didn't hate it.

Stiles loved cuddle time, and yes he said that because the ratio of near death experiences between detox time was painfully askew and yes, his Derek, well Older Derek, might glare and prowl if he ever learned but it was so worth it.

The Derek tilting his head to watch the screen better would hopefully also agree. Everyone needed cuddle time, everyone, no exceptions what so ever, unless there was like a replacement for cuddle time.

"I've seen this before," Derek muttered.

Stiles paused scratching his fingers through his hair, "What, wait, you're positive?" Derek eyed his enthusiasm but nodded, "Derek, dude." And it was important he understood this, "It only came out this year." But that meant something even more amazing, "You watched Star Wars."

This is the best, the absolute best. It meant they had stuff in common, it meant that there had been a chance Stiles would have bumped into Derek at the premiere; this means they shared an interest. Mind blown.

"Who doesn't?" Derek actually snorted as if the idea was preposterous and any who didn't were weird, oh so weird. "My sister-"

He quiet suddenly and understandably shut his gob, and Derek bent his head. It was the sort of tenseness that Stiles recognized, the one where you hated yourself a little bit and couldn't laugh to cover it.

Sadly enough, this was the Derek Stiles recognized but had never done anything about it. It's not like he could just go over there and give the dude the biggest man hug he could in attempt to remind him that fun and happiness was allowed. But with this Derek, maybe he could and Stiles pressed his fingers into the tense shoulders and snuffed into his hair to pull him closer.

"I'll get food started soon, but this is like the best bit so I'll shut up now," This was a lie. "I'm thinking burgers, the good kind, and a turkey one for my Dad. He'll be back in the morning, working a night shift, again. It's really not healthy at this point, he knows it, I know it but I've got it worked out, he's taking a holiday next week once I get the neighbor to-"

And Derek listened, tilting his head between Stiles and the television, never really averting his gaze from either. His legs intertwined with Stiles stretched onto the carpet, the last tension melting from his form once the final climax faded away.

Stiles yawned into his palm, pleasantly warm all over and stretched out his arms while Derek backed away, his fingers clasping at his own wrists to hold them still. He still had the all too vulnerable shift to his shoulders, the averted eyes as if he no longer understood his place. "You're going to help me in the kitchen?"

Stiles was about to make a jab at not having to clean knives with his claws but Derek had already stood and rolled out his shoulders, until the slightly resembled what they would become. "Sure," he spared Stiles a short smile.

And Stiles twisted on his heel to forget whatever that did.

It wasn't long later when Stiles growled at the slippery tomatoes he was attempting to slice that Derek said, "I don't actually know what happened." He was leaning against the counter, the toaster, toasting their buns while he folded his arms in forced nonchalance. Stiles had the terrible realization that his Derek had only gotten better at faking it.

"Happened," Stiles hummed, setting the slices off to the side and bunching up some lettuce for a pointless trim. "What do you remember?" It's not like they'd discussed this, Derek had been weak for a long while, unable to comprehend much until the little break down upon the couch. Scott was searching up information with the rest of them, but they literally had no clue.

Derek crossed his arms tighter, as if protecting himself for what about to come. Good luck, Stiles stabbed the lettuce. "I just, I went to sleep at home, it was a Friday, and then I'm in…Mexico, I guess," he shrugged. But he was worrying his bottom lip, until he realized and stopped.

"Okay," Stiles mentally prepared himself. It's not as if he could lie, he was awful at it anyway, but he could omit. "It's been a while since your…" he swallowed, "you know, um. Scott got bitten a while ago, and then later became Alpha under some truly remarkably terrifying circumstances. I don't know why you don't remember," he turned around to catch Derek's gaze. "And I don't know why that Friday the last day you remember is; maybe we can look into it and see?"

Derek nodded, his jaw already squared. "Just, did – I'm the only one to get out, was I?"

Stiles winced; there wasn't much omitting he could do here. "You're the only one who made it here," Stiles agreed. He caught the twitch of Derek's brows the slimmer of confused knowledge just under the surface, "Laura-"

Derek's head snapped up and at Stiles exhale, Derek stiffened. "Didn't," he understood.

"Yeah," he whispered before carrying on slicing the lettuce, it had taken a pretty horrid turn and if it were a little bit redder in color Stiles might have barfed. "We'll figure out what's going on, it's only been an afternoon and-"he checked the clock, "part of a night. Right now, we're going to eat and regenerate, and sort all this crap tomorrow okay."

It wasn't really a question because if Stiles had his way this would be happening; there would be no more surprises. He really didn't like being the one to break the news to Derek but Scott could be tactless about the worst, worst things and really, Stiles knew what went on back there better than most. Bump one out for his researching capabilities, yes.

Stiles tucked a meal inside the fridge for his Dad, mindlessly talking about what would happen the next day and the TV shows he'd missed, and the vacation homework he was supposed to finish which sucked because it was a vacation and no one wanted to read that much fiction. Derek played along a bit, answering and generally being the best company Stiles had at his usually singular dinners.

Once food was devoured (Derek having devoured both his burgers because Stiles knew a thing about werewolf metabolism) Stiles got to clean the dishes and bits he'd used, Derek drying them off with the air of a man searching for the words. "What you thinking?" Stiles asked even though the particular question could rein a lot of unanswerable questions upon his head.

Derek flickered a glance at him and shrugged, "Where do I usually…I mean, I guess I don't live here with you and your, um, Dad."

"Oh," Stiles blinked, "Further in town." He answered happily that this wasn't going to have his arm ripped off, "You have a loft. Great windows, industrial area," Stiles handed him the final dish and wiped the soap from his fingers. Derek absently wiped it down.

"I don't live with anyone?" he asked, well tried more like. Stiles blinked at him, wondering what he was getting at. Derek gestured, "I just assumed cause I don't have…" Oh, oh. Oh this could be bad, Derek, at this very moment in time, had the form of a sixteen year old. Not one permitted to live alone.

"You used to," Stiles shrugged trying to twist the words quicker in his head before he had to speak them out loud. "Live with Isaac, that is, but he lost someone close to him recently and he needed some time away. It's not like we're not all here for you, but well, so you do actually live alone, right now."

Derek placed the plate with the others while Stiles wiped down the surfaces nervously, "I don't remember him," Derek admitted.

Stiles quirked a smile at him, heading up the stairs and gestured for him to follow. "You helped each other a lot I think, in the beginning at least." Stiles riffled through the back of his Dad's closet, taking out the extra blankets and depositing the biggest blanket in Derek's hands. "I don't really know when he'll be back," he admitted, directing Derek at the stairs so he wouldn't trip.

"You couldn't take the blanket?" Derek semi-groaned into the puffy blanket stuffing his vision.

Stiles grinned, "You're the one with the werewolf senses. Here I thought you'd be less likely to fall flat on your face." The prospect wasn't the worst thing to him; he carried the pillow and the second sheet for the couch, laying them out quickly.

"Does that happen often, you falling flat on your face?" he dropped the blanket atop the pillow.

Well, "More often than I would like," he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. Derek actually smirked, the bastard, it was a little raw around the eyes but Stiles was so taking it. He poked his collar bone, "Oi, I'm handing you my luxurious couch to rest your head, be nice."

Derek plodded beside the couch and took off his socks, balling them up at his side. "I'll be the nicest," his exposed fangs gleamed at him.

Some things didn't change, wouldn't change and Stiles was actually glad about that. Stiles waved a hand, "Yeah, yeah. Let me get you some clothes," he eyed him a bit because there was a large size difference since last time, but this time it was extremely likely his clothes would fit him. Would you imagine that?

When he returned with an old shirt and pair of sweats with no inconvenient holes, Derek still sat on the couch. Shirtless, as per expected, it had been much too long since all that was exposed, and even at sixteen Derek had some muscle, it was almost like he didn't pop out the womb ready to rip apart homicidal maniacs.

It was also safe to say, Stiles wasn't looking merely noting at the differences and chucked the clothes at him. "I'll leave a note for my Dad that you're staying here and not shoot you," Derek pulled a face at him that made him question his sanity. "My Dad's the Sheriff; you could be a squatter for all he knows."

Obviously his humor was lost and Stiles sighed, heading towards his Dad's office for some paper and pen to scribble out the note and then stick it to the key bowl. When he returned Derek was all dressed, the blanket bunched over his shoulders. He was just a kid, "You can watch TV all you like, but try to turn if off before you zone out – got to think about the planet here - and take whatever you need from the kitchen."

Derek blinked at him but it was rather blank, as if he was having trouble comprehending something. "I'll be upstairs if you need me," Derek's nose twitched and he inhaled, steadying his soul and nodded.

Stiles took to the stairs, already tugging out his belt because there was only so much pressure his bladder could take. It hit him that to Derek, this was the first night he was sleeping without a Pack, and his stomach squirmed at the thought. He prepared to sleep quickly, shifting into his bed and sighing at his return.

Night had fallen a while ago, but Stiles was having one of those brief stints of insomnia, and it sucked. He let his mind wander until it didn't wander to sleep and he grabbed one of the books he had to read off his nightstand, flicking on his lamp to read. If anything could put him to sleep it was this.

Next he blinked at the clock it was past three in the morning and several chapters later of the book. Stiles understood it was a classic, but it just wouldn't compute, perhaps because there was a serious lack of supernatural life. Too unrealistic.

There was a sound at his door, milliseconds later it creaked open. Derek peered inside and Stiles blinked at him twice until he realized Derek was nervous. "I couldn't sleep either," Stiles admitted rather without point.

Derek stepped inside, the shadows doing nothing to hide the tense ridge of his body. He looked too slim, too tall and lanky to hold it all in. Most of all, Stiles saw loneliness and the budding fear he would remain like that forever. His eyes were red rimmed, barely noticeable in the shadows.

Stiles lifted back his covers without a second thought, "Someone should sleep in here tonight." Derek's nostrils flared, his lips convulsing and Stiles realized he was trying to hold back tears. He scooted further into the wall, rubbing at his own eyes when Derek carefully burrowed under Stiles' blankets.

His breathing was a little too fast, his brows twisting as if he couldn't decide if he liked the scent or despised it. "You ever read this," Stiles gestured at the book. Derek blinked glassy eyes at it before shaking his head, the blankets reaching his ears and the second pillow bunched under his head. "You shouldn't then, it's crappy – all big words and descriptions, and I like more stories more character-centric than this. You know, when it's all about people and relationships and the little things that individual person does. Here like when he says-"

And Stiles chattered to Derek through the night, trading his own thoughts for the novels until Derek's frown had quieted to undisturbed sleep. Well mostly undisturbed, he grew claws at about five am and Stiles hadn't had any thinking capabilities before he stroked his fingers through Derek's messy hair to calm him down.

The claws went back in after that but Stiles didn't. His Dad would arrive in less than an hour but Stiles wouldn't move Derek, he'd slept like this with Scott and damn if it'd been too long of a day to allow anything else. He didn't have school tomorrow but he set an alarm for ten anyway, and even though his Dad would probably wake him up.

He laid his head on his pillow, finally able to stare at Derek's peaceful open mouth on his pillow. He didn't deserve what happened to him. Stiles let his eyes drift shut, slumber tugging him into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

 _A/N:_

 _And tadaa, I actually wrote this a while ago, and I don't know why I didn't add it on here, just some little fluff, i guess - I'm all about that fluff. It could have been more but like most of my works, it wasn't, and I have enough on plate without adding another so...for your pleasure, and all that :)_


End file.
